


Summer Heat

by Elysandra



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/F, Porn Battle XIV, steampunk!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysandra/pseuds/Elysandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life aboard an airship - my first story in this Steampunk!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Porn Battle XIV, prompts: braid, frilly, garter, jewelry, Mistress, scratch, tickle.

“I like the summer,” Katelyn said, stepping out onto the balcony, happy about the light breeze that was teasing her heated skin. It had been so hot during the day that she’d not only forgone wearing her favourite ‘on the hunt’-trousers and blouse in favour of a tiny pair of hot pants and a sleeveless corsage, she’d even taken to stuffing her tie in her back pocket when it had stuck to her sweaty skin only a few minutes in. 

‘Hot’ was an understatement around here.

Finally back up on the airship, though, it was actually quite bearable. And the ‘view’ was quite nice, too.

Helen was sat close to the banister, made of delicate iron swirls that had proved to be far sturdier than they appeared, watching the busy chaos of the shanty town below them. The sun was slowly but surely disappearing behind the mountains that loomed at the horizon, and cast a reddish light on what was left of a once striving city. Every nook and cranny of its ruins were filled with makeshift dwellings like a bark bees’ hive in a rotting stump. Its inhabitants seemed to crawl around in between, busier than any bee, as if standing still meant certain death.

And maybe it did. This was not a fun place to be, but abnormals seldom asked where you’d prefer to hunt them.

Helen picked up a delicate glass from the table next to her, sipping the chartreuse liquor slowly.

“You were complaining about the heat all day,” she remarked dryly.

“As would you if your captain sent you running after a nasty little carnivore through those disgusting streets.”

She plucked the glass from Helen’s fingers and took a long sip, drawing a grimace at the taste.

“Urgh. Tesla found another crate?”

Helen chuckled lowly, taking back her glass. “He paid quite handsomely for it. But of course, captains get first dibs.” She took another sip, humming her approval. “I’ll have to let him know that this was well worth his money.”

“Let me know beforehand. It’d be a pity to miss his expression,” Katelyn requested, playing with the leather straps on Helen’s shoulders.

“You’ll owe me one. You two could really try not to antagonise each other quite that often.”

Katelyn hummed noncommittally. “How about advance payment?”

She trailed a hand along Helen’s shoulder blade, tugging at a curl that stuck to the sweat damp skin of her neck.

“You bet,” Helen growled. “Your slate’s full anyway. Beware the day I decide to cash!”

“Can’t wait,” Katelyn quipped back. She slipped her fingers under the leather holding Helen’s dress up.

“Huge advantage of summer,” she continued her earlier line of thought, “it takes delightfully little time to get you out of your clothes.”

The muddy brown linen was darker than Helen’s skin even after long days of summer heat, and the black leather straps crisscrossing her chest and lining the cloth set the white skin off even more. A golden chain with a single key on it dangled enticingly between her breasts, teasing Katelyn with memories of chains and shackles and quite a few other lockable items. She’d long since suspected Helen took care to wear keys on her whenever possible, just to tease her and see the expression she was most likely displaying right now.

To her disappointment, Helen’s hand caught hers before she could unfasten the buckles between the Captain’s shoulder blades.

“That stays on,” she said firmly. “I have no desire to give anyone a free show tonight.”

Kate clucked her tongue but knew better than to argue with the Captain. She flicked open the brooch holding Helen’s hair up, though, smirking when the dark locks tumbled down her back.

“Sassy,” Helen admonished with a mild glare. “Get on your knees already.”

She scooted her hips closer to the edge of the seat, tucking the dress up to her thighs and spreading her knees, placing one heel clad foot on the banister before throwing Kate an impatient look.

“Yes, Mistress Captain, Ma’am!”

Kate snapped her heels smartly in a mock salute, then stepped around the chair and took her top hat off, setting it aside on the table, her fingerless leather gloves next to it. Holding Helen’s brooch between her lips, she quickly braided her hair and pinned it up in a messy knot before sinking to her knees with a heated look up at her Captain.

“Any specific orders tonight, Mistress Captain?”

Her fingers were already teasing the inside of Helen’s knees, scratching lightly at the soft skin of her thighs. She could feel the muscles twitch underneath her nails, could already smell her Captain’s arousal.

“No,” Helen said calmly, no outward sign betraying any emotions. Katelyn knew better. “I trust you’ll be thorough and efficient as always.”

Katelyn giggled, scooting forward until her shoulders brushed Helen’s thighs and she could hide her mirth between her legs.

“Of course, Mistress Captain, as always,” she confirmed, her voice muffled under the dress’ skirt. The gentle hum of the machines at rest vibrated through her from under her knees, setting her nerves atingle.

Avoiding the enticing heat in front of her for the moment, she began to explore the thigh to her left with her mouth, starting at the knee and nipping and kissing upward until she encountered the garter she’d known would be there. She trailed her tongue along its length, loving the contrast of the leather strap and the frilly lace tickling her cheek where it was tied in a knot and bow.

A warning rap on her head with pointy knuckles stopped her fingers’ exploration on the outside of Helen’s thigh.

“The gun stays where it is, Katelyn,” Helen warned sternly, reaching below the dress’ folds to grip her lover’s neck and press her closer, away from the garter.

Not quite giving in, Katelyn settled for gripping Helen’s thighs tightly, the fingers of her left hand digging into the flesh underneath the revolver’s grip, and nipped at the juncture of her leg and hip before finally letting her tongue dance, proving once more that while she might not always be stoked on following orders she _was_ quite good at it if she wanted to be.

And hell did she want to right then!


End file.
